The Care And Raising of Perceptor
by dreamerchaos
Summary: The Autobots soon notice that Perceptor hasn’t been seen for quite a while. And that his latest project appears to have malfunctioned… Sparkling!Perceptor and the mayhem that ensues. Slash hinted. Warning, should they be needed, will be noted inside.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Care And Raising of Perceptor (1/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: PG to PG-13. Warning: Cavities may be induced due to cuteness and Wheeljack having too much entertainment value with a sparkling Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: The Autobots soon notice that Perceptor hasn't been seen for quite a while. And that his latest project appears to have malfunctioned… Sparkling!Perceptor and the mayhem that ensues.

Author Note: The style in which I will write this fic is…a work in progress, to say the least. I can't say how long this fic will be. Each chapter will contain more than one Autobot (or Decepticon, perhaps) and I will list their name above each part, so that the reader will know what to expect.

Author warning: Nothing too bad, besides possible mischief and Wheeljack cooing and preparing to combust over the cuteness that is sparkling!Perceptor.

**Bluestreak**

The sharpshooter paused mid-step, hearing a startled and frightened yelp from within the confines of the red and cobalt scientist's labs, followed by a muffled explosion and a thin gout of black smoke hissing through the narrow cracks of the sealed lab doors.

Warily, Bluestreak approached the entrance. Keying in the access code, he coughed violently when the doors slid open, waving his hand frantically to dispel the smoke.

"Perceptor?" Bluestreak stuck his head into the scientist's labs. His olfactory sensors burned, cringing at the sting of the dark smoke that cloaked the room. "Perceptor? Are you all right?"

In the far corner of the lab, a mammoth blend of cables and metal components hissed and spat cracking sparks of electricity, the equipment shuddering valiantly for one last attempt of existence before groaning, lights flickering and gears grinding to a halt. Steam and smoke continued to pour from various compartments, stifling and providing poor visibility into the room.

"Perceptor, where are you?" Bluestreak called out again.

Listening intently, he caught the faint sound of a small whimper off to his right.

"H-hold on, Perceptor! I'm coming inside!" Bluestreak dove into the room, searching haphazardly for the other mech, fearing that he was injured in the blast and lying prone and damaged within the cloak of the smoke.

On his hands and knees, Bluestreak felt his way across the floor, using his tactile senses to search out the span of the room.

Imagine the mech's initial shock when he nearly bumps into a miniature version of Perceptor, both the sparkling sized scientist and the much larger Autobot peering at each other face to face.

Perceptor tilted his head in curiosity, chirping inquiringly at the befuddled mech.

"P-Perceptor?"

**Bumblebee**

Bumblebee was surprised to see Bluestreak rush past him without hardly a hello or goodbye, the sharpshooter's arms wrapped tightly around his middle clutching an indistinguishable shape within his grip. "Bluestreak?" Bumblebee called after the larger mech. "Where are you going in such a hurry!?"

"Can'ttalkgottago. Bye Bumblebee!!" Bluestreak shot down the corridor, whipping off down the right, and nearly running over Hound and Mirage.

"Where on Cybertron is the fire?" Mirage muttered, helping Hound onto his pedes, the green mech having lost his balance from falling back in surprise at the sharpshooter's fast pace.

Bumblebee bit his lip, concerned and contemplating following after the mech, but Mirage summoned his attention, reminding him that he was due for patrol duty.

**Jazz**

The saboteur noticed offhandedly how Bluestreak snuck into the rec room without being observed by his fellow Datsuns. Making a beeline for the energon dispenser, the sharpshooter quickly filled two cubes of energon, and hastily tucked them into subspace before quickly heading back the way he came.

'Odd.' Jazz noted, raising his hand in greeting when Bluestreak happened to catch his gaze. "Hey, Blue! Care to join me?"

Bluestreak smiled sheepishly, all the while shifting restlessly closer to the exit. "S-sorry, Jazz. I'm busy. Just taking a break and heading back."

"Whatcha working on?"

"…Things." The sharpshooter offered half-heartedly. "Just a personal project."

"Ah." Jazz breathed, clearly not satisfied by the stilted answer.

"Anyway, bye!" Bluestreak bid farewell, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

"He's acting a bit odd." Blaster shared with the seating companion. The red communications officer shifted in his seat, observing the rec room and noting the Autobots that were present. "More so than usual."

"Hmmm." Jazz hummed in agreement.

Only a few astroseconds after Bluestreak's exit, Ratchet stuck his head into the rec room. Running a quick head count, the medic appeared to deflate, head dropping as he sighed in clear frustration.

"What's up, Ratchet?" Blaster inquired before the medic also beat a hasty retreat.

"Has anyone seen Perceptor?"

"Have you checked his labs?" Jazz asked.

"I did." The medic appeared even more concerned. "And the labs are in ruins, and I can't find Perceptor."

**Prowl**

Prowl entered Bluestreak's quarters, but hesitated before knocking on the door into Bluestreak's private recharge room. Pausing and frowning at the odd pitch of the sharpshooter's voice barely distinguishable.

"Ooh. What's wrong…wrong?...can't be good. Why aren't… not drinking…come on, please…" Following the sharpshooter's worried voice, there was a faint whimper and trill.

Prowl knocked politely, growing slightly concerned. "Bluestreak. Is everything all right?"

There was a loud clang, and then Bluestreak yelped. "Yes! I'm fine!" From within the room there was a loud row of shuffling, and the sound of the sharpshooter making an odd shushing noise. "What do you need, Prowl?"

"You are late for patrol, and Smokescreen is growing antsy waiting for you."

"Aah! Sorry! I'll be right there!"

"Is everything all right, Bluestreak?" Prowl hated to repeat himself, but he was growing steadily worried about Bluestreak's odd behavior and his apparent refusal to open the door to his private chambers.

"Fine! Everything's fine!"

Prowl wasn't remotely convinced, but decided to leave Bluestreak alone rather than to bother him any further and make the other Datsun more nervous.

He would have to remember to speak with Bluestreak about his odd behavior after patrol.

When leaving Bluestreak's quarters, his comm pinged. "Yes?" Prowl answered swiftly.

_:Prowl, have either you or Red Alert been informed of Perceptor having left the base for any reason?: _Optimus Prime inquired over the private comm link.

"No, and I do not believe Red Alert has been informed of such a thing. At least to my knowledge."

_:Ratchet and Wheeljack have both voiced their concerns that they cannot locate Perceptor, and that his labs are in disarray.:_

"Begging your pardon, sir, but that does not sound unusual for Perceptor's labs to be…slightly disorganized." Prowl said, as politely as possible reminding his leader of the scientist's penchant of losing track of his own projects and datapads within the jumble and hasty organization of his private labs.

:_Perhaps you should join me in Perceptor's labs and you will see why I am as concerned about Perceptor's current well-being:_

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

**Smokescreen**

"Bluestreak! Get the lead out and keep up already!" The Datsun snapped, growing further impatient as Bluestreak continued to lag behind in his alt mode. Smokescreen gunned his engine, tires grinding in frustration across the dirt and rock.

"I-I'm coming!" Bluestreak was practically moving at a snail pace, tires nearly tiptoeing across every bump and dip, speed never cresting twenty miles per hour.

"Primus and to the Pit!" Smokescreen growled, hitting his brakes, performing a tight doughnut and coming to a screeching halt facing Bluestreak. The Datsun assumed his bipedal mode, face furious as he waited for Bluestreak to finally rendezvous.

"What is the matter with you? How are we supposed to finish our patrol if I am too busy coaxing you along!"

"I'm sorry!" Bluestreak came to a stop in front of him, but strangely did not assume his bipedal form. He rocked back and forth on his tires, body lying low to the ground.

Smokescreen's optics narrowed, just now noting the slightly darker tint of Bluestreak's windows. "Are you hiding something, Bluestreak?"

"No!" Bluestreak's alt from literally jumped. The sharpshooter reversed sharply, but then stopped. "No, not at all."

"You are hiding something." Smokescreen insisted, striding towards the sharpshooter who sheepishly retreated backwards until Smokescreen caught up.

"Stop running backwards in circles." Smokescreen ignored Bluestreak's flustered sputtering, trapping the sharpshooter by laying a hand over the mech's hood, leaning down and peering in through the front window. "What is going on, Bluestreak? You can't hide anything from me."

From within the sheltered recess and partially hidden behind the tinted glass, a small form suddenly flung itself against the front windshield glass, small hands smacking against the dark glass. "BLUE!" The small shape shouted.

It was hard to determine later who jumped farther and emitted the loudest shriek of surprise. Smokescreen, or Bluestreak in response to the other Datsun's sudden flight and terrified shout.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Care And Raising of Perceptor (2/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: PG to PG-13. Warning: Cavities may be induced due to cuteness and Wheeljack having too much entertainment value with a sparkling Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: The Autobots soon notice that Perceptor hasn't been seen for quite a while. And that his latest project appears to have malfunctioned… Sparkling!Perceptor and the mayhem that ensues.

Author Note: The style in which I will write this fic is…a work in progress, to say the least. I can't say how long this fic will be. Each chapter will contain more than one Autobot (or Decepticon, perhaps) and I will list their name above each part, so that the reader will know what to expect.

Author warning: Nothing too bad, besides possible mischief and Wheeljack cooing and preparing to combust over the cuteness that is sparkling!Perceptor.

Also note! I'll try and remember to provide links to previous chapters on my livejournal.

**Ratchet**

"You do realize, Bluestreak, that you are very fortunate that no Decepticon squad discovered you and Smokescreen during this entire excursion?"

Bluestreak bowed his head in shame, fingers twisted together in his lap as he sat in one of the seats in Prowl's private office. "I'm really, really, really sorry, Prowl. I really am!"

"Come on, man." Jazz insisted, standing up for the sharpshooter. In his arms, Jazz carefully bounced Perceptor, much to the sparkling's amusement. "He got scared, is all. His spark was in the right place."

"Nevertheless." Red Alert sighed, also sitting in another appointed seat, resting his forehead in his hands. "This is quite an obstacle."

"The only positive note is that Wheeljack and I have been able to determine the basic function of Perceptor's project." Ratchet added, leaning against the closed, arms folded. "Perceptor was working on developing a highly advanced medical component that would speed along the connection and reproduction of metallic dermal skin and circuitry if a mech received grievous injuries during battle. But somehow, the machine malfunctioned and…significantly inverted Perceptor's frame and schematics, returning him to his sparkling form."

"Is there any hope that Wheeljack can repair the machine? And return Perceptor to normal?" Optimus Prime inquired, standing beside Prowl's desk. The Autobot leader appeared to be having a difficult time keeping his optics from straying towards the sparkling, although he tried to keep his gaze passive.

Ratchet frowned, worried, but kept his silence. He was Optimus' confidant regarding the certain private matter that currently bothered the larger mech, and he felt it would be unwise to speak to his leader now, especially while standing with company. "Wheeljack is positive that he can manage repairs. It would help if he can discover the schematics for the project, but he has promised that he can manage, even in the worst case scenario that he cannot find the blueprints." Ratchet raised a hand to intercede the impeding questions. "But he cannot guarantee the amount of time required to determine the necessary parts and duration of repairs."

The security director massaged his temples, fingers drumming against the sensitive plating. "This will require a major reconfiguration of security details. I don't even know where to begin in sparkling-proofing the Ark."

"How will we go by informing the crew about the recent events?" Prowl asked, turning his gaze to the Prime.

"I will speak to everyone tomorrow." Optimus answered after a moment of contemplation, voice quiet. "Prowl, please inform all personnel to assemble in the recreation room during the morning period."

"Yes, and until then!" Red Alert leaped in, making sure to include Bluestreak by glaring pointedly at the mech. Bluestreak bowed his head, smiling sheepishly as the security director emphasized, "I want every mech here to promise to try to keep this **quiet **until the crew has been properly informed of the events. We do not need anyone overreacting."

While the rest of the room's occupants voiced their agreement, Ratchet raised his head, noticing that the door whooshed open to allow Wheeljack to enter the room.

"Prowl, have to say no luck in finding the schematics. I'll start looking over the mechanism tomorrow as soon as-" The engineer's optics blinking, ear fins halting their flashes, attention abruptly consumed by the burbling entity resting calmly within Jazz's arms.

'_Oh Primus.' _Ratchet moaned just before Wheeljack practically bounded across the room, nearly knocking over Jazz in his exuberance.

"HE'S SO CUTE!!"

____ 

**First Aid**

First Aid hovered uncertainly beside the medical berth, flanked by both of his creators. He could not help but to avert his gaze from Wheeljack's somewhat embarrassing behavior, the engineer crouched down until his folded hands and chin rested on the edge of the berth.

The engineer appeared to be beyond delight in the face of the small sparkling, ear fins glowing pink with pure enjoyment. Perceptor's hands wandered over the flashing lights, shrieking and bouncing up and down in glee when the fins flashed once more, then twice. Wheeljack giggled – like a young mech falling head over heels in love – looking ready to combust in front of his creation.

Ratchet glowered at his bondmate, not knowing who to reproach and order to calm down: the laughing and quaking engineer, or the sparkling that was squealing and bouncing upon the berth.

"He's just too adorable. Aren't you?" The engineer lifted a hand, running his finger carefully over the sparkling's sensitive horns. Perceptor purred, tilting his head into the touch, the little beings optics shuttering as he leaned against the soothing touch in complete contentment. "Yes you are." Wheeljack cooed, rubbing his forehead against the soft dermal flesh of Perceptor's, the sparkling giggling, optics powered down until black, a broad smile and giggle splitting the little one's lips.

"Wheeljack…" Ratchet admonished, trying to ignore First Aid's trembling shoulders, the younger mech unsuccessfully containing his laughter behind his face plate. "Will I be able to examine my young patient before the cycle is through?"

The engineer made a sound reminiscent to a petulant 'awwwwww', but conceded, finally sulking backwards and providing the medic enough space to slip closer and begin examining the sparkling.

Perceptor blinked up at Ratchet, head tilted, observing the larger mech with rapt attention. He was not totally adverse to the medic as Ratchet carefully probed and checked him over, but shifted awkwardly as he began a virus and firewall scan, little face twisted into a frown when Ratchet slid the hardwire into the hidden socket hidden under the plating of the back of his neck.

"His readings are positive. Basic firewalls are at full strength. No viruses or glitches that I can detect." Ratchet removed the connection, rubbing soothingly at the plating when he removed the cable. First Aid immediately handed over a Cybertronian version of a stethoscope, and Ratchet nodded in thanks.

He frowned as he carefully pressed the cool metal over Perceptor's stomach region, listening to the whoosh and exerted chug of the little mech's pumps. "I don't like that sound." He murmured, removing the stethoscope. He stood up and frowned, face creased in thought. "Bluestreak also informed me that during his patrol that Perceptor appeared to be suffering from an upset fuel tank and hiccupping at odd periods of time."

"Is he ill, Ratchet?" Wheeljack asked.

"More than likely he's suffering from too much energon at too high of a grade." Ratchet assured the engineer. He moved aside, allowing First Aid to continue for him. The younger medic answered Perceptor's inquisitive chirps with soft trilling clicks, holding out a small spoon-like receptacle, trying to coax Perceptor to open his mouth and accept the trembling glob of liquid. "Bluestreak informed me that he tried to give Perceptor some energon earlier. He didn't know that sparkling's pumps are too sensitive to any other energon besides that specially made for their young forms. In any case, it was extremely lucky that Perceptor refused to partake in anymore than the little bit that he'd drank, otherwise he may have suffered from energon poisoning."

"Will he recover?"

"Certainly." Ratchet turned his head, watching as First Aid swooped in, sliding the spoonful of liquid into Perceptor's slightly parted mouth. Perceptor's face flinched into a moue of displeasure, appearing ready to retch up the liquid when First Aid tugged the small empty basin from the sparkling's mouth. Perceptor gagged silently, glossa licking his lips, face pinched in disgust. "He'll need a bit of rest, and First Aid just administered a tonic that will help filter and ease his pump. By the time Perceptor is feeling better and requires sustenance, I will have the proper supply of specialized energon ready for him."

"Thank Primus." Wheeljack's vents breathed a sigh of relief.

"And speaking of our little patient." Ratchet moved closer to his young creation, watching in approval as First Aid carefully picked up the sparkling, holding Perceptor against his shoulder, patting the small back soothingly, instinctively knowing how to ease the young being, the light in Perceptor's optics drooping, little body rising and falling slowly as he half-recharged against the medic's warm body. "He's probably feeling worn out from so much excitement today and such a thorough examination. I think rest and recharge is in order."

____ 

**Optimus Prime**

Optimus Prime raised his chin, breaking away from the lines of text stretching across the data pad screen as Ratchet entered is private office.

"Perceptor is resting. First Aid is holding first watch to make sure that he is still accepting the tonic." Ratchet coolly informed his Prime.

"Ahh." Optimus nodded, gaze unusually pensive. "Thank you, Ratchet, for informing me."

A period of tense silence stretched between them.

Optimus was the first to break his gaze away. "If there isn't anything else, Ratchet-"

"Don't turn away from me, Optimus." Ratchet snapped. He cut his hand through the air, halting, as if realizing the severity of the gesture. Looking down at the red appendage, the medic sighed in frustration and exhaustion, palming the side of his helm. "Just…please. Please talk to me. We've known each other for how long, and even with that battle mask, I can tell when you look as if your spark is shattering right in front of your optics."

Optimus said nothing, his hands remaining on the arms of his seat. He stared back regally at the upset medic, appearing to be cast in iron and metal like the stoic figures of Primus in the temples on Cybertron.

But Ratchet was not blind to the way that Optimus' fingers ground into the metal of the chair's arms, a faint trembling running up the Autobot leader's forearms.

"How long has it been since you've seen him like that?" Ratchet whispered, as if not wanting to break the fragile silence. "He's so young, now, isn't he?" He chuckled darkly in sad humor, optics dim, face turned away but not hiding the private grief, for himself and for the old friend sitting in front of him.

"He always did look like you, Optimus; before your optimization and promotion as a Prime."

And still Optimus said nothing. Head bowing, glaring hotly at the desk surface until Ratchet feared the metal would sear beneath his gaze.

"I don't know which is crueler." Ratchet snarled under his breath. "That you're punishing yourself by not telling him the truth, or whether that you're punishing **him **by choosing not to tell him that one – No! – That both of his creators still function and that one in particular stands in front of him as his own leader."

"Ratchet. _Please-_" Optimus softly begged. Voice beseeching Ratchet not to continue.

"Optimus, I want to know the reason why." Ratchet answered by equally beseeching, but begging his leader for an answer, not for his silence. "I can understand why you would not reveal the identity of his other creator. I know the history between you two. But he's your creation… model, struts, energon, and all!"

The medic shuddered, voice hoarse with grief. For the friend sitting in front of him, and the young scientist, too naïve and not knowing the bitter history that went unsaid, binding him together with his Autobot leader. The bond that threatened to poison the three of them, Ratchet forced to watch the unspoken lies and pain, his own spark breaking because he swore an oath of silence before the Council.

"_Know this, young one." The Senator's eyes bore into his. Ratchet's optics glared back, but he bit his lip to remain silent. The Senator sneered back, face full of contempt. "We need a Prime. We do __**not **__require a sparkling to divert his attention."_

"_And if I refuse to remain in silence?" Ratchet snapped, ignoring the warning hand of the Senator's guard that squeezed his shoulder._

_The Senator smiled, with the warmth of a metashark. "If he loses his focus, the Council will…remove the distraction."_

_A block of ice settled in his pump. "Y-You would sacrifice a young life…"_

_The Senator scoffed, glaring at the mech. "You hopeless fool." The mech sighed in ill contempt. "What makes you think one tiny sparkling is worth victory for the Autobots, and the freedom and prosperity of Cybertron?"_

But regardless of the Council's edict, he remained in silence in order to honor the promise made to a friend. Not because of the command of the spineless Senators.

"_Optimus, please!" Ratchet crouched down over the buckled, breaking form, arms trying to hold the shaking mech within his embrace. The larger mech trembled, battle mask pulled back to reveal a grief-stricken face awash with coolant fluid. "I-I'll think of something. With enough credits and the underground circuit, I can find someone who can hide him. Those spineless mechrats won't ever find him!"_

"_It's too cruel…" Optimus hid his face in the crook of the medic's neck. "My own…the light of my spark…I can't even touch him. I'll stain him. If I show a trace of affection towards him, they'll order that he be disassembled."_

"_Not while the both of us are still around." Ratchet swore. _

_The medic made as if to rise, but he halted. Surprised by the blue fingers that circled his wrist._

"_Please say and do nothing. Please. Do not reveal anything."_

"_Optimus-" _

"_I am sorry, Ratchet. But I can't risk it." Optimus raised his face. Smiling radiantly through the trickling fluids that traced crystal scars across his cheeks. "I will not make him suffer because he was sparked from this body. I will abandon him in order to save him."_

"_Optimus-" Ratchet sobbed, tears matching his friend's._

"_He's so beautiful. Even the one time I was allowed to look upon him." Optimus whispered, face soft and serene. His form shook, and he hid his face behind his hands. "…My son. Mine. He is the only thing I have left. The one bond that unites me and my mate._

"_But they both have left me, in their own separate ways. And I cannot follow. My mate chose a path that I disagree with, and he strives to divide Cybertron. My sparkling must remain separated and unfamiliar with the ties between him and I. For his safety. And he will not suffer the burden, because he will never know the identity of either of his creators."_

"_This…" Ratchet wiped ineffectively at his cheeks, streaking his forearm with the coolant tears, the shimmering drops seeming to burn into his flesh as he shuddered with each pass. "This is too cruel. It's not fair…" He gasped. "It's not fair that you should suffer. And that you would choose for your own sparkling to suffer too."_

_The medic's breath hitched in surprise as his friend dropped a soft, chaste kiss upon his brow. Optimus rose, tracing his fingers through his dear friend's tears._

"_Your honesty and loyalty…I will cherish it beyond words, Ratchet." Optimus backed away from his friend. He smiled in regret, before keying his battle mask to slide once more into place. Azure optics pleading for Ratchet to try and understand the choices that had to be made. "Please do me the honor of preserving the oath between us."_

_Ratchet lowered his chin, feeling his spark breaking. "On-only because I love you, Optimus. You're my brother." He whispered._

_Even though Optimus was too far away to hear him, the mech nodded, face impassive behind the mask as he turned his back, striding away from the torn mech standing and yet somehow broken, and growing smaller as he strode away._

_And with each step, he left a piece of his spark trailing behind. _

_  
_"The Council is dead. This is like a gift from Primus. A second chance, to start all over." Ratchet words snapped them both out of their reminiscing. "How can you possibly stand to look at him and yet continue to tell him nothing?"

Like so long ago, Optimus lay his face in his hands, clutching at his forehead, rocking silently within his seat. His vents hitched, a torn, aching moan escaping through the thick metal of his battle mask.

"If you can't do it for yourself, Optimus, then do it for me." Ratchet pleads. Shoulders stooped with the weight of too many memories, and the pain that bound them and yet stretched a gulf between them…both mechs differing on the decisions made in the past, and the choice of lies that were made necessary to preserve the leader's only kin. "I only want you to smile and be happy again."

He had said too much, and the pain tore wounds deep inside, beyond the torch and tool of any medic to touch and heal. But Ratchet bit his lip, deciding to finally keep his silence. He stepped out of Optimus' office, leaving the mech to a small measure of peace and a chance to grieve in a measure of silence for the past he'd once lost and a future he deemed too wonderful and yet so terrifying that to reach out and clutch it was as beautiful and as painful as grasping at the sun.

Ratchet managed not to walk fast, nor to run the rest of the way towards his shared room with Wheeljack.

He found some semblance of comfort within the arms of his mate. Wheeljack ached to ask about the cause of the medic's tears, but instead whispered and soothed his mate, rocking the medic through most of the night.

There was no such comfort for Optimus.

____ 

**Jazz**

The saboteur knew that he was a lucky mech to be considered trustworthy of acting as temporary guardian for the small sparkling.

It didn't hurt that Ratchet had come down upon him like an avatar of Primus, promising that for every scuff or scratch, the medic would remove one of the mech's limbs.

Jazz grinned playfully, bobbing his head to the music playing through his wireless connections, savoring the beat and bass. He carefully bounced Perceptor on his knees, tucking the small hands into his, holding the little guy safe and away from harm or risk of falling. He sang aloud with the music, delighting his young attentive audience.

'_I've got a pocket_

_Got a pocket full of sunshine_

_I've got a pocket_

_Got a pocket that is all mine_

_Ooh. Oooooh.'_

Perceptor was paying rapt attention, emitting trills and clicks. Trying to keep up with the music, he laughed and mimicked Jazz, chirping with each bounce.

Jazz chuckled, smoothly jumping up without dropping the beat or the sparkling, cradling the small mech against his chest, spinning around and around with the music. Perceptor trilled with joy, hanging onto Jazz's neck with a tight grip. "Spin! Spin!"

'_Take me away_

_To a secret place_

_Take me away _

_On happy days_

_Take me away_

_To a secret place_

_Take me away_

_On happy days'_ *

Jazz waltzed and dipped, much to the amusement and cheers of Blaster, Hound, Beachcomber, and Bumblebee. Blaster's two twin Cassettes mimicked Jazz and his young charge, both locking hands and spinning exuberantly, Blaster laughing along with them as both spun and spun until they lost their grip and went sprawling onto their backs, dizzy and clutching at the Communication officer's legs as they pulled themselves onto their pedes.

Jazz finished the song and dance with a graceful bow to his audience, Perceptor clapping his hands along with the attending viewers.

"Wooo!" Jazz collapsed into his seat, laughing and vents hissing as he waved at the heated plates of his cheeks. "Perceptor, you're gonna run me ragged, little mech."

"You gettin' old there, Jazz?" Blaster teased.

The saboteur puffed his cheeks, glaring at the officer. Then grinning cheekily. "I'd like to see you keep up with every song and dance, while my little partner cries 'Again, Again!'"

Bumblebee bounced over to Jazz, grinning up at Perceptor sitting in the mech's lap. "Hey, Percy!" He greeted, hands resting on the saboteur's knees.

"BeeBee!" Percy greeted.

"Wanna hear a song Carly taught me?" Bumblebee teased.

"Bee!"

"Excitable little guy, isn't he?" Beachcomber chuckled, watching while Bumblebee lightly drummed a beat upon Jazz's knee, Perceptor leaning over and avidly listening as the Minibot hummed a melody that Carly had fallen in love with over the radio.

"He's speaking." Hound noted. "But not too much, huh?" He pointed out in curiosity.

"Sparklings around his stage are usually prone to mimicking." Blaster instructed. He sat back, relaxing as Eject and Rewind climbed up to rest in his lap, both exhausted from keeping up with Jazz's beat and dance. "With the usual clicks and trills, too. He's too young to communicate in a more complicated context. Most sparklings his stage seem pretty adept at learning from facial expressions and gestures, and adapting them into his own."

Jazz checked his chronometer while Blaster instructed Hound on the raising and adaptation of sparklings, the green mech listening raptly. Realizing the time and an impending appointment, Jazz smiled at Bumblebee and Perceptor. "Sorry to interrupt, my fair friends. But Perceptor and I have a date with Prowl. And my little mech here," Bumblebee stepped back, allowing Jazz to stand, situating the sparkling until his bottom rested on Jazz's forearm, tucked against the saboteur's chest. "Has a date with some energon, specially made with love and care from our favorite resident medic."

"Mmmm!" Perceptor chirped, already seeming to savor the promise of energon.

Jazz waved cheerily goodbye to the others, striding smoothly to go and meet and greet his bondmate, but not without stopping off first and snagging some energon for Perceptor.

____ 

**Prowl**

"Blue! Blue!"

Prowl paused, recognizing the voice. "I see that Perceptor is with you." A small smile couldn't help but grace his lips as Jazz strode in carrying the sparkling, Perceptor bouncing in the saboteur's grip once within sight of the Datsun.

"Hey, what can I say?" Jazz shrugged, grinning slyly, leaning down to peck his bondmate on the cheek. Perceptor practically falling out of his arms to lay a good smack of Prowl's cheek as well, following the saboteur's lead. "We both have good taste in mechs, and couldn't wait until our date."

"Mmhmm." Prowl rubbed at the sparkling's chin, tickling until it drew a giggle. Rising from his seat, he was greeted with another exuberant cry of "Blue! Blue!" from Perceptor. "I still have not figured out why he keeps calling me that." Prowl informed aloud. "He said the same thing when referring to Smokescreen."

Jazz snickered.

"Is something funny, then?" Prowl shifted, door wings arching over his shoulders.

"Come on. Who's the first mech that Perceptor saw?"

Prowl frowned. "Bluestreak." He answered calmly. Not understanding why Jazz was asking a question he already knew the answer to. "I can understand why he would refer to Bluestreak in such a manner."

"Still don't see it?" Jazz teased lightly. "Come on. What do you, Smokey, and Blue have in common?"

"We're Datsuns."

Jazz hummed in approval. "Good."

"It can't possibly be our chevrons."

"Nope. Something a little bigger."

"Jazz…" Prowl warned, already preparing for the mech to tease him by saying something crude. "Not in front of young audios."

"Who's the one with a dirty CPU here?" Jazz laughed. Deciding to lay off and stop teasing the mech, he revealed, "It's the wings, my black and white friend."

"My wings?" At his utterance, said door wings spiked slightly up in the air. The movement caught Perceptor's attention, confirming Jazz's answer when the sparkling giggled "Blue!".

"It wouldn't surprise me if Bluestreak tried to entertain Perceptor by teaching him his name. So Percy here shortened the name, and since Bluestreak kept him fairly well hidden until Smokescreen discovered his ruse-"

"And if Perceptor had noticed Bluestreak's wings and the next mech that he saw was another Datsun-" Prowl continued.

"And there you have the simplicity and beauty of association. What other better way for sparklings to learn and identify pieces of their environment?" Jazz finished.

"Hmm." Prowl moved to sit at the more casual seating arrangement along the far side of his office, the couch-like seat providing plenty of room for the two mechs, but both choosing to sit side by side in a more intimate fashion. Prowl sighed, stretching an arm over the back of the seat, working the kinks out of his shoulders.

"Working hard and late again, I see." Jazz chided, reaching up with his right hand and kneading at the joints of his mate's door wings. Folding a leg over his opposite knee, he had little problem settling Perceptor in his lap while retrieving the container of specialized energon from subspace, the sparkling eagerly reaching for it once within sight.

Noting that Prowl was looking at the special container strangely, Jazz grinned and jiggled it. "Wheeljack worked out a design similar to the ones the humans use for their younglings. I think it's called a 'sippy cup'."

"It's purpose? Besides easing Perceptor's need for sustenance?" Prowl asked.

"Keeping him from dribbling half of it all over himself or his babysitter. Less mess equals fewer trips to the wash racks." Jazz kindly informed, making sure Perceptor's sitting up properly before letting him manhandle the container. The sparkling eagerly attacked the energon, humming happily as he sipped at the container's fluted corner, the short nub offering the sparkling a latch to mouth and suckle.

And not a spill in sight. Prowl was properly impressed.

The small microscope leaned back as if to tilt the cup further, but Jazz carefully caught him by the back of his helm. Whispering in warning, "Careful, little mech. You'll take too much too fast." Perceptor, if not understanding all the words, understood the tone, ceasing to try and tilt the container upside down, but continuing to attack the drink fervently, half of the energon already disappearing.

"I have another question." The security officer asked.

"Such as, Prowler?"

"Do you think I can teach him to properly say my name? As much as I care for Bluestreak, I would rather not have to continue looking over my shoulder whenever I am met with Perceptor's customary greeting."

* "Pocket Full of Sunshine" by Natasha Bettingfield (If I butchered the lyrics or artist's name, my apologies). If the music doesn't match the seeming era of the Transformers, then just play pretend. See? *waves fairy wand* Magic.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Care And Raising of Perceptor (3/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: PG to PG-13. Warning: Cavities may be induced due to cuteness and Wheeljack having too much entertainment value with a sparkling Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: The Autobots soon notice that Perceptor hasn't been seen for quite a while. And that his latest project appears to have malfunctioned… Sparkling!Perceptor and the mayhem that ensues.

Author Note: The style in which I will write this fic is…a work in progress, to say the least. I can't say how long this fic will be. Each chapter will contain more than one Autobot (or Decepticon, perhaps) and I will list their name above each part, so that the reader will know what to expect.

Author warning: Nothing too bad, besides possible mischief and Wheeljack cooing and preparing to combust over the cuteness that is sparkling!Perceptor. And in this particular chapter, which include the antics of curious and intrigued Dinobots.

______

**Grimlock**

Ratchet could not possibly express the surprise – and quite honestly, the terror – when he walked back into his Medbay only to find Grimlock sitting upon the floor with his legs folded, while Perceptor burbled happily within the massive canyon of the Dinobot leader's lap.

"When did you sneak in here?" The medic hastily snapped, certain that he had only left Perceptor in his makeshift crib for a moment in order to run an errand.

"Grimlock not sneak. Grimlock knocked first!" His creation growled, red optical band flashing as he peered at the medic. "Little thing made so much noise that Grimlock entered to see what was so loud."

"He's a sparkling, Grimlock. Not a _thing_." Ratchet sighed, correcting the Dinobot. "AND, his name is Perceptor. Remember?"

"Him Perceptor?" Grimlock repeated. Confused, he folded his arms across his massive chest, tilting his head as he pondered the conundrum sitting in his lap. "Why Perceptor a baby and not a big bot?"

'_Baby?' _Ratchet ran a scan of the human language before finding the term. _'Aah. I see. It would make more sense to Grimlock. He has never heard of or seen a sparkling. Any human 'babies' he may have seen were probably on some human television programs.'_

"There was an accident." Ratchet edged closer, carefully watching the Dinobot. Not afraid that Grimlock would intentionally hurt the tiny sparkling, but the giant mech was occasionally…clumsy. "And until Wheeljack can make repairs, I will be looking after and caring for Perceptor."

Grimlock carefully reached out with a clawed fingertip, and lightly pushed Perceptor back until he flopped backwards into the cradle of Grimlock's folded ankles. The sparkling's hands and pedes swam in the air as he wiggled within the Dinobot's lap like an overturned turtle, giggling at the sudden soft landing upon his back.

"Grimlock!" Ratchet admonished. "Gently! Remember? He's just a baby."

Grimlock, apparently unfazed by his creator's tone, leaned closer, until his battle mask tapped the sparkling's forehead. Perceptor's tiny fingers traced the grooves and dips of the mech's battle mask, chirping inquisitively at the barrier, feeling for the familiar lips and arches of the cheek like he had always done with Jazz and Wheeljack, usually resulting in the splitting of lips and a joyful carefree sound escaping from his caretaker.

The snap of the battle mask retracting made Ratchet start. His concern only heightened when Grimlock's sharp denta were bared, mere inches from the tiny Perceptor. _'Frag it, what is he doing?! He can't possibly be intimidated or jealous of Perceptor, let alone enough to harm such a tiny being!'_

Ratchet moved forward as if to snatch Perceptor away from those sharp dangerous fangs, but Grimlock proved to be much quicker.

Perceptor squealed in surprise as the warm glossa flicked outward and scraped up along his cheek, an azure optic squinting against the pressure and brush of the slick appendage as Grimlock affectionately greeted the tiny sparkling.

Ratchet almost collapsed in deflating terror and sudden immense relief, knees shaking as Perceptor bobbed upwards, returning the greeting by flicking a much smaller glossa up the arch of Grimlock's dark cheek. Grimlock purred, sharp teeth grinning as he rubbed his cheek against the small microscope's temple and cheek.

"Him Perceptor just a baby. Me Grimlock know that!" Grimlock barked at his creator. "Grimlock take good care of little mech. Him grow up to be good Dinobot."

"Now wait a second, you overgrown reptile. I didn't say that you could adopt him-"

The doors to the Med bay slid open, Gears stepping inside, muttering and holding one hand over his left optic. "Ratchet. Cliffjumper was being an aft and tossing around a human gadget and it hit me. Can you-"

Gears came to a screeching halt, single optic wide at the sight of Grimlock hunkering over the tiny sparkling, mouth bare and grinning, showing off a shark-tooth smile. Ratchet waved his hand in warning, silently ordering the Minibot to shush.

"AAAAHHH!!!! GRIMLOCK'S GONNA EAT PERCEPTOR!!" Gears howled in terror.

"GEARS!!" Ratchet roared.

______

**Sludge**

"You think him Perceptor would like mud baths? Like Sludge likes water and mud?" Sludge asked, peering at First Aid.

"Umm..." First Aid stuttered, surprised by the sudden question.

The Protectobots' leader, Hot Spot, spoke in his stead, sitting beside the young medic. "Why do you ask, Sludge?"

Sludge shrugged, gaze lowered. "Me Sludge want to share something special with baby Perceptor. Like Grimlock. Grimlock watches over Perceptor like Perceptor is Grimlock's baby."

"Now there's an image." Blades muttered.

"Be nice." Hot Spot chided. He turned back to Sludge, the Dinobot eagerly waiting for his input.

"Sludge. Perceptor is little, isn't he?" He asked carefully.

Sludge bobbed his head in agreement. "Yes. Him small. Me Sludge can carry him in one hand. But Ratchet says to carry Perceptor with both hands, not with one hand around waist. Me Sludge know better now, and am really, really careful."

"And you, Sludge, are very big." Hot Spot said.

"Uh huh."

"And the lakes and mud baths that you like to make are r_eally_ big and _really_ deep."

Hot Spot sighed softly at the look of confusion and slight hurt that was spreading across Sludge's face. First Aid spoke up, speaking to the Dinobot soothingly. "Sludge… I know you mean well. But Perceptor is too small. And I know that you care for him. But…If you let him play outside in one of your lakes or mud baths, he would probably sink. Remember, sparklings can't swim. And if he ingested a lot of water or mud, he would probably grow ill. And I know that you wouldn't want anything bad to happen to Perceptor."

Sludge's shoulders sagged, his face dismal. "…oh." His pede dug into the floor as he stared awkwardly at the ground. "…Okay." The Dinobot sighed, turning and leaving the room with a sad weight on his shoulders.

"Poor guy." Hot Spot shook his helm. "I hope that didn't hurt his feelings."

"What's wrong, Sludge?" Bumblebee approached the Dinobot sitting alone in a corner of the rec room.

"…nothing." Sludge looked away.

"Come on, buddy." Bumblebee coaxed. "We're friends, right? You can talk to me."

Sludge tilted his head to the side, meeting Bumblebee's concerned look. Haltingly, he shared the conversation he had had with the Protectobots.

"Mmm." Bumblebee hummed in thought, pulling over a seat in order to join Sludge. "Yeah, that could be bad." He admitted.

"…Yeah." Sludge sighed sadly.

"Too bad Wheeljack couldn't build a kiddy pool for Perceptor. Then you could teach him how to play in the water."

"Kid-dy pool?" Sludge pronounced the foreign term.

"Yeah. It's something the humans have." Bumblebee explained. "See, Spike and Carly go to the outdoor public pool in the summer when it gets really hot outside. The public pool is a big pool of water – Well…big for the humans. Anyway, for the really young humans, there a special area connected to the big pool like a smaller cup or bowl of water. It's pretty shallow, so that the young humans can stand or sit in the water without sinking or drowning. It's lets them play and allows the older humans to watch over them and worry less about the little humans sinking."

Bumblebee sort of regretted his little speech when he noticed the odd light of excitement in Sludge's optics.

But really, what was the worst that could happen?

"**WHAT DID YOU DO, SLUDGE?!" **

Bumblebee poked his head around the corner, watching Tracks hop backwards away from the washracks' entrance to avoid a slop of mud spilling out across the threshold. The Minibot moaned, dropping his helm. _'Oh, no, Sludge. Please tell me that you didn't-'_

But alas, Sludge had.

Sludge stared at Tracks in consternation, hands buried in a thick patch of mud. In front of him, sitting with his back to the entrance, Perceptor playfully smacked his hands upon the jiggling surface of mud pies laid in front of his lap. The viscous liquid squirted in all directions, streaking Sludge's legs and the small microscope's chest. "Mud bath." Sludge calmly informed Tracks. Speaking carefully as if Tracks were the slow one. Not bothered the slightest by all the mud that soaked his form, while Perceptor sat buried up to his waist in mud. Little hands leaving ravines and cracked paths through the thick patches of muck.

"I can see that, you malfunctioning oaf! Look at this mess! Just wait until Ratchet and Wheeljack hear about this!!"

"What is all the noise about?!" Sunstreaker snapped, appearing around a corner, marching towards Tracks.

"THAT!" Tracks fired back, pointing his finger accusingly at the seated Dinobot and sparkling.

Sunstreaker stepped over the thick piles of mud inside the main hallway, scowling. "Primus, Sludge. Did you cart in** all **of the dirtin the valley?"

"Me Sludge good at making mud baths." The Dinobot stated proudly.

"Nooo…Really?" Tracks stated snidely. "Well then, big mech, what do you plan to do know that you've been discovered?" The white and blue mech growled.

Bumblebee and Sunstreaker observed in downright surprise – and no small amount of fearful awe – as a thick blob of mud flew through the air and kissed Tracks' face, drenching the red plates in dark muck.

"Sludge willing to share." The Dinobot grumbled, hand dripping streams of mud. "Tracks so grumpy. All he needed to do was **ask** if he could play with Sludge and Perceptor." Sludge offered his piece of helpful advice.

"Swamp beast!" Sunstreaker howled with mirth at the dripping horrified mech, Tracks' face slack in dismay as the muck dripped down the front of his chassis.

Bumblebee groaned in despair, already anticipating the temper tantrum that would soon erupt from the mech slowly simmering in rage, face wet and covered with muck.

Everything dissolved from there when Tracks finally snapped. Bending down and scooping up a handful of mud, throwing it at his unwary victim, completely ignoring Sludge and instead sending the mud ball straight into the bright yellow warrior's face. Sunstreaker stumbled backwards from the surprise attack, spitting out mud. _"You glitch head!"_ The warrior yelled.

______

**Swoop**

"I'm telling you!" Spike swore. "I left all of them right here!"

"Ooohh." Carly groaned, stressing her frustration by digging her fingers in her hair. "Where are they? Are you sure that you left them here, Spike?"

"Yes!"

The older warrior followed the elevated volume coming from the tiny organic beings. "What's the problem here?" Ironhide strode over, looming over the two, earning immediate silence upon arrival, both humans shrinking in front of the large authority figure as Ironhide scowled down at them in disapproval of the loud ruckus. Drawn by the raised voice, Bumblebee followed, moving towards his young charge. "Spike, why are you and Carly yelling?" The yellow Minibot asked.

"We can't find the blankets and jackets for the Charity Center!" Carly appeared ready to scream in aggravation.

"W-What?" Bumblebee's optics blinked. "Carly, Spike asked me to leave them right here while I went to see Tracks and ask about the jackets and blankets that Raoul promised to send over to add to your donations."

"Charity? Donations?" Ironhide frowned. "You're giving tiny fleece products and sheets to some sort of facility?"

"We signed up to join the sponsored donation event at the Charity Center." Carly looked up at the large red warrior. "It's for a good cause; the jackets and blankets were going to be provided to the less fortunate and homeless at the local soup centers. We spent the entire month gathering donations, and we're supposed to deliver those donations by tomorrow! But they're gone!"

"Bumblebee, could any of the other Autobots be trying to pull a prank?" Spike asked his guardian.

"…No." The Minibot said finally. "It's not as if any of the Autobots don't know what jackets or blankets are, but personally those items would be of no interest to any of them. I doubt they would have moved them, either. It's not as if we left them in an area for any mech to trip or stumble over."

Ironhide idly rubbed at the back of his helm, deep in thought. "Come to think of it, I think I saw Swoop nosing around this corridor not too long ago. But Primus above, I don't know what caught his attention."

"Swoop?" Carly blinked.

"Why could all those blankets and jackets interest him?" Spike looked up at the warrior. "You think that Swoop is interested in like, I don't know, nesting, or something?" The young human lightly laughed at his own joke.

Ironhide opened his mouth to dryly comment on Spike's assessment, but was cut off by a loud commotion from the hallway. "Now what?" The older mech sighed.

Ratchet ducked his head into the room, scowling. "Have any of you seen Perceptor?" In the background, the humans and two mechs could hear Wheeljack in a panic, calling out for the sparkling.

"Don't tell me that Perceptor has been stolen too." Ironhide groaned.

"Too?" Ratchet frowned, confused.

Bumblebee quickly explained.

"Now that you mention it…" Ratchet pondered. "I only left the Med bay for a moment, and I passed Swoop on the way."

"What in the world is Swoop doing!" Carly demanded. "First our donations, and now Perceptor?"

"Alright. Come with me." Ironhide barked, brushing past Ratchet, waving a hand for the mechs and humans to follow.

"Where are we going?" Ratchet asked, motioning for Wheeljack to follow.

"I think we'll find our answers by visiting Red Alert." The red mech informed the medic. "After all, Red's got access to all of the surveillance cameras in the Ark."

"Brilliant!" Wheeljack gasped.

Red Alert peered at his visitors as they strode into the sanctuary of his surveillance room. "What is going on?" He commanded.

"I'll explain in a moment." Ironhide assures, leaning over and tapping in a few commands.

"Hey!" Red Alert appeared ready to smack the warrior's hand away from the keyboard.

"What's the lot number for the cameras in the Dinobots' exercise and recreation quarters, Red?" Ironhide inquired.

"Not that one!" Red Alert shoved away the mech's hand, growling in frustration. "Fine! Let me do it before you mess up the surveillance sequence." The security director's fingers quickly danced across the keyboard, acquiring the correct cameras. "Here..."

The cameras stationed to observe the Dinobots' recreation quarters filled the large screens, icons maximized to allow the security director to view the entire room.

"There's our blankets and jackets!" Carly pointed towards the right screen, indicating the nest of material.

"What is he doing?" Wheeljack leaned closer, noting the bipedal pteredon hunkered over the nest, quickly bunching up the sides of the nest with a deeper trench of jackets.

"I have no idea." Red Alert responded. "I'll zoom in the camera."

The lens narrowed, focusing on the core of the nest.

A small black helm popped into the screen, appearing from underneath a wrap of blankets. Perceptor crawled over to the edge of the nest, pulling himself up, clicking up at the pteradon.

Perhaps too close to the edge of the nest for Swoop's comfort, the Dinobot gently nudged Perceptor back into the center, chirping and cooing, swaddling the sparkling with a hefty mass of jackets.

"That little glitch!!" Ratchet snarled, whirling away from the surveillance screens and stomping out of the room.

Wheeljack chased after his mate, urging the medic to try and remain calm. While the medic promised to disassemble and optimize the pterosaur into a toaster.

"…Maybe now wouldn't be a good time to ask Ratchet if he could bring back the donations, too." Spike whispered to Carly, who bobbed her head in agreement.

______

**Slag**

Slag nibbled at one of the square energon treats from the stack tucked against his chest, bent over his share while sitting nearby Wheeljack. The other Dinobots were stretched out throughout the engineer's labs, but besides Grimlock and Slag, the rest were lightly dozing after consuming their energon snacks, slumped over each other in a massive doggy pile. Their creator was busily tinkering with a small gadget while keeping a steady optic on Perceptor. The sparkling was seated in his tall crib, the clear reinforced glass allowing the engineer to see the sparkling unhindered by a blank steel walls, while also allowing Perceptor to watch the engineer.

The young microscope was suckling idly at the nub of his sippy cup, already completely drained, but the sparkling simply contenting himself with mouthing at the stubby opening.

Wheeljack chuckled at the microscope's beseeching gaze. "Now, now. You already finished. You'll get some more energon later. If you drink too much now, you'll upset your fuel tank."

Perceptor whined softly, and ceased nibbling on his cup.

"Him Perceptor hungry?" Slag asked, tilting his head towards his creator.

"Maybe. But more than likely he wants some energon because you and your brothers are eating your treats. If you have something, then he wants some, too."

Slag pondered his creator's admission, optics focused on the sparkling as he continued to chew at the treat.

Wheeljack started as his comm pinged.

_:Wheeljack?:_

"Yes, Prowl?" Wheeljack spoke out loud.

_:When it is most convenient, please come down to Perceptor's labs. Skyfire may have found a rough schematic of the device that the microscope had been working on.:_

"Excellent!" Wheeljack cheered, signing off the comm. He rose from his seat, but just as soon halted. Haltingly he turned to face Perceptor and the crib, and turning around the face the doors. "…hmm." He pondered.

"Slag, Grimlock, could I ask a favor?"

"What Wheeljack want?" Grimlock asked, optics a dull ruby, the tyrannosaur slowly falling under the thrall of recharge.

"Could you both keep an optic on Perceptor while I run down quickly to-" Wheeljack laughed slightly. "…well, Perceptor's labs?"

Grimlock's head bobbed, but Slag was fairly certain the Dinobot nodded due to drowsiness rather than consent.

Wheeljack felt assured that he could trust the sparkling in the two elder Dinobots' company, especially since Grimlock had exhibited the greatest parental instinct, usually the focal guardian around the sparkling whenever Ratchet or Wheeljack swapped sparkling duty. "Don't take him out of the crib." The engineer instructed. "He shouldn't fuss too badly. And once he's done with the cup, could one of you please retrieve it and place it on my work table?"

"Fine." Slag grunted.

Grimlock was slowly tilting towards the right, hovering just above Sludge's shoulder.

"Behave!" Wheeljack ordered as he darted out of the labs, focused on rushing down to the Perceptor's labs and retrieving the schematics that would shed light onto the cause of the microscope's current predicament.

"Wheeljack nag too much." Slag muttered. Interest flagging, he turned away as Grimlock finally surrendered, collapsing into recharge; the large brute using Sludge as a pillow, his brother shifting under the impact of Grimlock's chin.

Slag was in the middle of picking up his second energon treat when he heard a faint chirp from the crib. Looking up, his optics blinked at the microscope peering at him through the translucent glass, hands splayed wide against the smooth wall. "What you Perceptor want?" Slag asked.

Perceptor opened his mouth wide, and then closed it.

The Dinobot bit at the corner of his treat, watching the sparkling's curious display.

When Slag took another bite, Perceptor repeated the gesture. Adding a small peep of noise, further drawing the mech's attention.

Slag glanced down at the energon treat, then at the microscope. "You Perceptor wanting this?" He tilted the energon treat to show the sparkling.

Perceptor bounced eagerly on his pedes.

Slag was torn. On one hand, they were **his** treats. Two, Wheeljack said sparklings couldn't have energon, only the special energon made just for them.

Wheeljack had told the Dinobots this when he snatched the special energon away before his creations could sample the glowing and tempting cubes of pale blue energon. _"You bots are big mechs! You don't need this!"_

Slag debated his situation.

Well…energon treats were _special_, special. And probably a lot better than the energon Perceptor had to drink.

Coming to a decision, Slag rose to stand on his pedes, approaching the crib and leaning over the edge. Perceptor stretched up onto the tip of his pedes, chirping as the mech leaned over the rail.

The Dinobot carefully broke off a tiny wedge of the treat – _'Slag knew that the sparkling was too little and had no denta, and that him Slag had to be a good mech and help out' _- Making the piece of energon much smaller and a lot easier for the tiny being to swallow.

He popped the energon treat into Perceptor's open mouth, and the microscope hummed loudly as the flavor of the treat burst along his glossa. The treat melted after a moment within contact among the moisture and heat of a mech's mouth cavity, allowing the microscope to savor the morsel.

"You Perceptor like?" He asked, and the microscope bobbed excitedly. After swallowing the treat, Perceptor hopped up and down, opening his mouth again and squeaking for the Dinobot's attention.

Slag's willpower crumbled slightly under the sparkling's beseeching gaze. "…Okay. Just one more…" He warned.

"Oh Slag, you didn't..." Wheeljack whimpered, resting the sparkling on his knee.

"Slag don't get why Wheeljack upset." Slag muttered, arms sullenly crossed as the mech disdainfully turned his head away. "Me Slag should feel bad. Gave Perceptor all of Slag's snacks."

"Well thank Primus that the energon treats don't contain the exact properties like the energon we consume for sustenance, otherwise Perceptor may have grown ill and emptied his fuel tank." The engineer sighed, arms wrapped around the sparkling.

"Why him Perceptor shaking so badly?" Snarl bent closer, observing the tiny mech.

Wheeljack leaned back with a wearied sigh, not relishing the responsibility of telling Ratchet that Slag had shared his treats with Perceptor and now the engineer and medical officer would have to deal with a sparkling suffering from a reaction similar to what the humans so affectionately termed as a 'sugar rush'.

______

**Snarl**

"I thought you were on sparkling duty?" Smokescreen asked as he passed Blaster's seat in the rec room.

"I am." Blaster grinned, nodding in the direction of the farthest corner of the room. "And our little buddy is tuckered out and taking a light recharge, and Snarl kindly offered to act as nanny bot."

The aforementioned mech raised his head slightly, currently in his alternate mode. Realizing that the conversation was of no importance, the Dinobot laid his head back down, curling around the slumbering sparkling, spiked tail arced around the microscope curled into the crook of his shoulder. The sharp extensions carefully turned away from the recharging mech, facing the rest of the room as if to ward off any predators.

"Cute." The Datsun chortled.

"Hey, if you want to go over there and tell Snarl that you disagree…" Blaster kindly offered, leaning back in his seat, grinning and waving a hand courteously in the Dinobot's direction.

"No, thanks."

"Wise mech."

Not too long after Smokescreen strode into the rec room, another small group of mechs followed, Cliffjumper, Brawn, and Huffer, joined by Windcharger and Powerglide.

Cliffjumper leaped into his seat in front of the large video screen, snatching up the Cybertonian-sized remote control. "Hah!" He whooped, extending it away from Brawn as the mech dove for it. "I get to choose the channel!" The red mech said in triumph.

"Great." Powerglide groused.

The other mechs joined the large seats as Cliffjumper flicked through the many channels, remaining on a separate channel for a scant few seconds before jumping to another.

"No. Nope. Stupid. Boring. Rerun. Meh. Nope. Dull. Boring…Hah!" Cliffjumper eventually decided on the channel. "This one will do." He deemed the worthy channel for his amusement.

Some reality episode or another, the other mechs mused to their sheer lack of enjoyment. The focus of the screen involving a car chase where a local human enforcement squad following after a stolen vehicle, the high scream of sirens and screeching tires making the mechs present in the rec room wince.

Against Snarl's side, Perceptor shifted in discomfort at the loud noise, lips quivering and brow furrowing as he partially ascended out of recharge. A faint whimper escaped as he burrowed his face into Snarl's shoulder in hopes of muffling the terrible noise. The Dinobot raised his head, snarling in annoyance and concern, nuzzling the tiny mech, trying to urge the microscope back into recharge.

"Turn it up, Cliffjumper." Huffer complained. "I can't hear what the narrator's saying."

The Minibot quickly complied.

Perceptor jolted completely online, groggy and crying out softly at the rude awakening. The sparkling crawled awkwardly into the large cradle of Snarl's forelimbs, tumbling into the warm embrace and clicking in distress as he failed to retreat away from the horrible sounds and screams of sirens.

"Bet they're gonna ram him!" Brawn boasted.

"Please." Powerglide disagreed. "They'll use a spike strip. Definitely." He countered.

Their argument was cut short as a large shadow suddenly loomed above them. The mechs leaned back, optics flaring wide in surprise at the Dinobot standing above them in his bipedal form, cradling a distressed sparkling in his arms.

"Turn. It. Off." Snarl warned, voice dangerously low.

"Hey, you can't tell us what to do-" Huffer began to whine.

"Butt out, Snarl!" Cliffjumper barked.

Smokescreen pushed back his chair, shoving away from his table. Blaster was on his pedes and rushing to intercede or snatch Perceptor away before things got ugly.

_CRACK_

Cliffjumper's optics blinked in startled wonder at the unexpected disappearance of the remote from his hand, fingers unconsciously clenching around the empty void. He glanced up at the balled fist right above his helm, small shards of black plastic and colorful innards peeking between Snarl's constricted fingers.

The Dinobot disdainfully opened his hand, allowing the pathetic remains of the remote to rain atop the red Minibot's helm. Snarl growled low, ducking his head to sneer in Cliffjumper's face.

"Me Snarl and Perceptor go back and recharge." The Dinibot snarled in cool instruction. "You Cliffjumper and little friends stay _quiet_, or next time Snarl do same thing to loud and stupid mech."

"S…Sure, Snarl." Powerglide squeaked, hunkering back away from the intimidating mech. Windcharger practically falling out of his seat to escape the withering gaze.

"Yeah. Real quiet. Not a peep." Huffer ducked his head beneath his shielding arms.

Snarl huffed, sniffing contemptuously before slowly turning away and striding back towards his resting spot.

Blaster joined the Dinobot and sparkling, waiting patiently as the mech transformed back into his alternate form and curled around the microscope once more.

"Hey, Snarl." Blaster moved forward cautiously. "Mind if I join you two?"

The Dinobot's gaze flicked over him, seeming to consider, before carefully sliding his tail aside, providing enough room for the communication specialist to join them.

Blaster plopped down, leaning his back against the sturdy warm side of the drowsy mech. The sparkling rested close by, Perceptor's helm barely tapping his hip. Blaster grinned down at the sleepy gaze peering up at him.

"Hey, little buddy." Blaster kept his voice low. "Let me play a relaxing melody to help you fall back into recharge…"


	4. Chapter 4

Title: The Care And Raising of Perceptor (4/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: PG to PG-13. Warning: Cavities may be induced due to cuteness and Wheeljack having too much entertainment value with a sparkling Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: The Autobots soon notice that Perceptor hasn't been seen for quite a while. And that his latest project appears to have malfunctioned… Sparkling!Perceptor and the mayhem that ensues.

Author Note: The style in which I will write this fic is…a work in progress, to say the least. I can't say how long this fic will be. Each chapter will contain more than one Autobot (or Decepticon, perhaps) and I will list their name above each part, so that the reader will know what to expect.

Author warning: Nothing too bad, besides possible mischief and Wheeljack cooing and preparing to combust over the cuteness that is sparkling!Perceptor. And hopefully this one won't be as long as the Dinobot ones, because, frankly, those literally drained me. And I didn't intend for them to get that long in the first place!

Kilk- 1.2 minutes

Breem- 8 min

Joor- 1 hour

Orn- 1 day

Meta-cycle- 13 months-1 year- 400 orns

Vorn- 83 years

______

**Tracks**

"Alright, alright." Tracks admits in defeat. "He's the cutest thing I've ever laid optics upon. Happy?"

Hound grinned. Perceptor giggled, bouncing upon the jeep's lap. "Think that Perceptor here would give you a run for the title of 'the greatest gift bestowed upon the planet'?" He teased.

"Oh, please." Tracks scowls. "There is no other mech that is close to perfection as I am."

Hound's grin widened. _"Reeeeeallly?"_

Perceptor clicks and squirms, bending over and snagging both hands around one of his small pedes. The motion and shifting of his body weight caused the little sparkling to topple over backwards. Hound catching the microscope before he tumbled out of the jeep's lap.

Perceptor squealed with delight, hands waving up at the jeep from his toppled position. "You're a wiggler, aren't you?" Hound laughed, catching the sparkling's waving pedes, Perceptor squirming and reaching to tangle his hands with the jeep's. Giggling all the while at his captor, amusing the jeep with trilling burbling laughter and squeals.

"……Fine." Tracks submits, trying to remain firm in resolve. "Perceptor is the **second **greatest thing to ever walk this organic planet." The mech attempts to glare – and failing miserably – at the tiny sparkling, "But I'm still number one!" He warns the little microscope.

"EEee!" Perceptor cheers.

Tracks' stern resolve falters as Hound calmly deposits the sparkling into his arms. The vain mech blinking down at the tiny being burbling and pawing at his chassis, rubbing against the mech's blue front; making himself comfortably against Tracks' warmth before yawning widely, the long gesture inducing the sparkling to squeak cutely.

"Still number one, huh?" Hound teased.

"…He's a c_lose_ second." Tracks crumbles in defeat. Running a finger along the sparkling's helm, causing the microscope to shiver and rustle about, nestling closer to his chassis. "..Yeah. By a thin margin."

**Red Alert**

"…Red?" Inferno pauses in the open doorway into the Security Director's office. "Are you playing human cartoons on some of your security monitors?"

Red Alert practically leapt out of his plating. With a confirming 'eep!' signifying his guilt, the red and white mech scrabbled to switch the channel and shut off the display screen. Inciting a mournful wail from the sparkling sitting on the floor surrounded by a fortress of toys and blankets donated by Spike and Carly…And quite a few slipped in courtesy of Wheeljack. The engineer notorious for bestowing a new gift every orn unless Ratchet intercepted his bondmate, scolding the mech that he was spoiling the sparkling.

"O-O-Of course not!" Red Alert stutters. Fingers flying across the keyboard, hiding his embarrassment by spinning his seat around, the tall back facing the fire truck. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Perceptor whimpered, big blue optics turned beseechingly towards the fire truck. He pointed at the black, blank screen of the security monitors. "Tee!" He whined, rocking as he mourned the disappearance of the moving and flashy cartoons. "Vee!" The microscope wails plaintively.

Red Alert glanced down, peering at the upset sparkling. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he reached over and keyed in the sequence to activate the screens once again.

Immediately Perceptor clapped his hands in excitement when the cartoons flashed back on. Cooing at the moving figures and music, utterly enraptured by the running film.

The Security Director glared at the fire truck in sullen shame. "He was growing bored sitting here with me." He admits, the dermal plating upon his face heating. "I thought he would enjoy some entertainment."

Inferno was sorely pressed to muffle his laughter. Especially when Red Alert's glare intensified. "That's…really sweet of ya, Red."

"Hmph!" The red and white mech huffed. Arms folding, hunkering down within the safety of his chair.

Inferno leaned over the back, wrapping his arms around the stubbornly quiet, mortified mech. "I think it's really cute." The fire truck chuckled. Earning a light swat from the Security Director.

**Sideswipe**

"Ack!" Sideswipe squawked indignantly. Fingers quickly beating a tempo across the game control pad. "Nononono-No! No fair!"

Perceptor smacked one hand up and down intermittently upon the large control pad laid out across his smaller lap, cradled within Sunstreaker's crossed legs. The brightly painted twin grinning as his video controlled character handed Sideswipe's character his aft.

"_Nooooo…"_ Sideswipe wailed in mourning as his character was crushed, life meter falling from red into complete darkness. Sunstreaker's character struck a battle pose over his opponent's mangled form. **'Total Victory'** stenciled across the screen.

"You cheated." Sideswipe whimpered, glaring at his brother. "I can't believe my own brother would turn on me and tag-team with another mech."

"Don't be jealous, you overgrown sparkling." Perceptor nuzzled his face into Sunstreaker's hand as the mech fingered an audio, giggling against the teasing tickle. "I can't help it if the little guy has extremely good taste."

**Sunstreaker**

"Uhhh." Sideswipe came to a halt in the entry of the doorway. Staring, amused and slightly appalled at the scene in front of him. "Sunstreaker. My gorgeous, chipper daffodil?"

"I've told you **how **many times that I despise such _endearing _nicknames." His twin groused from the floor, stretched out on his belly in a casual pose upon the floor, legs kicking idly in the air as he calmly sketched a rough image across a large pad of clean-white paper, using a large wand to distribute an even coat of paint.

"What are you and Percy_ doing_?"

Sunstreaker raised an optical ridge, deigning his brother with a disdainful glance. "Painting." He calmly informed the stunned mech.

"…You do realize that Percy is using **you **as his canvas? Rather than his pad of paper?"

Sunstreaker tilted his head to glance over his shoulder. Indeed, Perceptor was intently focused upon using his finger paints to doodle abstract images across Sunstreaker's middle section. Already the back and side of his right leg were equally adorned in fresh coats of paint. The little microscope meticulously adding a fresh smear of blue paint upon the abstract canvas.

"Huh. So he is." Sunstreaker said with a extreme amount of calm.

"You never let me do that." Sideswipe pouted, edging into the room and falling to sit on his twin's opposite side. Sulking.

"I never have because I don't trust you not to write an obscene message upon my beautiful paint job."

"Your paint isn't looking so great now, brother of mine."

"Perhaps." Sunstreaker dipped his brush into a small canister of paint. "However, I won't need to worry since Wheeljack or Ratchet will more than likely give me an extra ration of car wax for offering to 'sparklingsit' Perceptor."

"Wow, Sunstreaker." Sideswipe stated in awe. "The things you won't do for a shiny, glossy coat."

"Hmmm." Sunstreaker hummed. He snapped his fingers in the air, summoning his brother. "While you're sitting there and otherwise being useless, hand me that can of paint next to your knee."

Sideswipe grumbled, but complied.

Although he did indulge in a little bit of payback. Leaving a little message on his brother's back in bright red paint, carefully dabbed on without his twin noticing. Sideswipe held a finger up to his lips to hush Perceptor as the sparkling burbled a questioning chirp. The sparkling muffled a giggle with both hands, mimicking Sideswipe's gesture. Holding a tiny finger to his lips.

**Ironhide**

"Come on." Ironhide coached. Bent down with one knee folded, he held his hands outward, offering guidance to the sparkling. "You can do it."

Perceptor's forehead bunched, face befuddled. He shifted awkwardly on hands and knees.

Ironhide spoke reassuringly, coaxing the clicking and chirping sparkling.

Perceptor, gaining a measure of confidence, carefully and shakily rose onto his pedes, knees knocking repeatedly. Standing on shaky little limbs.

"That's it." Ironhide quietly cheered.

"Ironhide?"

Ironhide turned his optics away for a moment as Perceptor dared a few trembling steps.

"Optimus. I didn't hear you enter."

Optimus' blue gaze was solely upon the tiny sparkling. "He's-"

"Oh!" Ironhide swung around in time to catch Perceptor before he lost his balance and fell forward. The sparkling burbling unhappily, hanging limp within the red mech's hands. "The little guy's nowhere near to walking on his own. But he's trying his very best. I'm trying to help him along and give him encouragement and support."

"..I…see, then."

Much to Ironhide's surprise, Perceptor perked up brightly. Arms waving wildly in the air, the sparkling clicked rapidly, almost smacking the soldier's face as Ironhide lifted him up.

"Primus, what's gotten into you, now?" Ironhide asked. Supporting the microscope against his shoulder, patting the tiny back.

Perceptor squealed in demand, hands and arms outstretched in the Prime's direction. Hands clenching and unclenching, trilling for the mech's attention.

"I've never seen him act up like this." Ironhide stated in surprised wonder.

When he stepped towards the Prime, the sparkling grew even more excited. Optics alight and bright with anticipation while trills and squeals run together in an entire sequence.

Optimus didn't appear to know how to react, the battle mask not completely hiding the twisted expression of confusion and terror reflected in his optics.

"He won't break if you hold him." Ironhide chides, handing the sparkling over before Perceptor wriggled out of his grip and possibly injured himself.

Perceptor eagerly attached his entire frame to the Prime's front. Optimus' hands reflexively catching the small bundle against his windshield, large blue hands supporting the microscope's posterior and the back of his helm.

"He's…so small." Optimus stated with no small amount of wonder.

"Sparklings tend to be." Ironhide teased lightly.

Perceptor chirred up at the mech holding him, nuzzling at the expanse of the Prime's throat and collarbone strut.

Ironhide chuckled. "Seems I'm no longer needed." The older mech watched Perceptor quite happily make himself comfortable against his newest guardian. He stretched his arms over his head, working out a kink in his elbow. "I think I'll use this opportunity to go and visit Ratchet to see if'n he can fix this old body of mine." The mech snickered, "Before he comes after me with a wrench, spitting blistering threats about me bein' late with my physical and all."

"But-" Optimus' optics couldn't stretch any wider as he stared helplessly after the mech. Cradling the tiny spark of life in his arms, not knowing what he should do next.

**Optimus Prime**

(A little bit of warning. Mechxmech action hinted. Nothing too colorful. More so reminiscing.)

Optimus retreated into the safety of his office. Seated behind the large desk, cradling Perceptor in his arms.

The sparkling blinked up at him, clicking inquiringly. One hand tracing the large blue forefinger against his tiny helm.

The Prime shifted restlessly, staring down in wonder – and no small amount of terror – and the wonderful, fragile little being that lay in his arms. So trusting and innocent, unaware of the power in the much larger mech's hands that could easily sever his tiny limbs or break the fragile line of his neck.

"How can you stand to look at me?" Optimus wondered out loud. Perceptor tilted his head, blinking in consternation at the question.

"You don't deserve a mech like me as your creator." Optimus sighed. "A good creator would have been there for you every joor. Every orn. Instead, I sent you away. All of it was to keep you safe, but to me the feeling was as if I was throwing you into the trash. Abandoned, cold, and alone."

Small hands padded gently across the smooth surface of his battle mask. Optimus met the sparkling's curious gaze with a mournful look.

"Your sire was…" Optimus paused. Drawing a shuddering breath of air through his vents. "Your sire **is **an amazing mech. Regardless of his faction of choice or his actions before and during the War."

Optimus ran his fingers down Perceptor's helm. The sparkling shivered, wiggling and ducking his head, rubbing at the tickle across his plating. The Prime smiled at the trembling whirr as the sparkling fidgeted in his arms, snagging fingers around two of his creator's fingers.

"He was quite a sight to behold. Back before the War." The remembrance played out in his memory banks. The confident curl of the miner's lip components. His feigned indignation as the broad arm slung around his waist, tugging and splaying the smaller red and blue mech across his partner's front. "I called him a brute. Among other more colorful names." Optimus chuckled at the heckling jeers of the mech's fellow miners as Optronix berated the miner from accosting him in public. The miner neither eager nor willing to be deterred by the dock worker's waspish tone.

"_Don't act like a stranger, Optronix." The miner cajoled. Swinging the dock worker around effortlessly with one hand, propelling the mech into his arms once more._

"_I'm going to be late for my shift!" Optronix moaned in grief. Hands folded against the mech's broad chest. He glared up at his captor. "Let me go this instant, you undignified brute."_

_The miner snorted at the insult. "I've been called far worse." He titled the smaller mech's chin up. Leaning closer, "Personally, I enjoy endearments such as 'Yes, more' or 'Primus, right there'-"_

_The miner winced as the pede smashed into his shin. Laughing boisterously as his grip slackened enough, allowing the dock worker to rip free and tear off, running away from the amused miner._

"He would not take 'no' for an answer. I don't know how many times I found myself yanked into a shadowed alcove or a tucked away booth in one of the energon bars courtesy of that particular stubborn mech."

Indeed, being tossed over the mech's lap had been enough embarrassment to last Optronix for the next handful of vorns or so. The hand tilting his chin back, leaving him vulnerable and bare to be plundered by a rakish pair of lip components, the mech cheered on by his fellow miners…

Optimus covered his face with one hand. Feeling the flush of heat across the dermal plating, remembering the way he quivered and swooned beneath the miner's hands. Never forgetting the jaunty, cocky grin as their lips separated, the miner's glossa flicking out and running across damp lips.

The Prime coughed awkwardly. "Well, at the very least, you never developed any of his cockiness or overabundance of confidence." He chuckled.

"What we had…" Optimus paused. The memories cherished as equally as they were painful to recall. "It was beautiful. Something I would not trade for Cybertron or otherwise."

'_There are many times that I wish things could have been different.'_

Perceptor eagerly stretched upward when the face drew nearer, nuzzling the masked face. "I also don't regret the treasure that our time together has created." Optimus embraced the sparkling closer. A loud click signaling the release of the battle mask's internal catch, the plating slide aside to reveal the Prime's silver etched plating.

The smile that spread his lip components was rich with honest adoration as the sparkling warbled with happiness, fingers dancing across the Prime's revealed face.

"I can not help but to wonder if you would be proud of our creation, Megatron." Optimus spoke to the silence that filled the room. Other than the soft trilling of the sparkling in his arms, he was not met with any answer.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: The Care And Raising of Perceptor (5/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Rating: PG to PG-13.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: The Autobots soon notice that Perceptor hasn't been seen for quite a while. And that his latest project appears to have malfunctioned… Sparkling!Perceptor and the mayhem that ensues.

Summary2: The Decepticons can not be kept away for too long…

-----

Kilk- 1.2 minutes

Breem- 8 min

Joor- 1 hour

Orn- 1 day

Meta-cycle- 13 months-1 year- 400 orns

Vorn- 83 years

-----

"Now see, Perceptor, isn't this a great view?" Beachcomber hovered around the sparkling, plumping up the thick bed of padding being used to make a nest for the sparkling to rest for their outdoor 'picnic'.

Perceptor trilled, clapping his hands in approval. Flopping down within the fluffy bedding, squirming to make a comfortable bundle to nestle upon.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." Beachcomber chuckled at the microscope's antics.

Cliffjumper shook his head at the mech's fussing. Hound chuckled from the water's edge down by the lake.

"I can't believe the Hatchet let us take Perceptor on this excursion." The red minibot stated in no small amount of disbelief. "Can anyone remember how many times he's allowed Perceptor to even leave the perimeter of the Ark?"

"Know what? I can't believe we came all the way out here for _this_!" Brawn groused, waving an arm to indicate the slightly brackish water of the lake.

"Come on, Brawn." Beachcomber attempts to sooth the minibot's ire. "Isn't the structure amazing?" He indicated the pyramid structure in the distance at the farthest reaches of the lake.

"Yeah, fine. Now we know why they call it 'Pyramid Lake'." The minibot sighed.

"This place is fantastic." Hound grinned, immensely enjoying himself. "Just look at the species of birds around the lake."

"I know what **that** species is." Cliffjumper indicated in warning, pointing towards the rising cloud of birds that were currently swooping down towards the unwary Jeep.

"Huh?" Hound started, then yelped in surprise and then terror as the seagulls surrounded him. "AHH!" The Jeep flailed about helplessly, trying to cover his head from the pelting birds.

Brawn and Cliffjumper unenthusiastically tried to shoo the seagulls away from the helpless Jeep. They were immediately surrounded as well, the minibots disappearing beneath the cloud of avian attackers.

Beachcomber couldn't believe his optics. "Do you…need any help?" He inquired.

"GET DOWN HERE AND HELP US!" Brawn roared.

"Err…Right." Beachcomber hesitated.

"Percy. My little buddy." Beachcomber knelt down, looking the sparkling in the optic. "I need you to stay. Right. Here. 'Kay?"

"Kay!" Perceptor chirped. Watching the spectacle down by the lake-side with curious optics, but remaining seated.

Beachcomber trotted down towards the lake to see if he could provide any assistance. He hopped around the edge of the swirling mass of birds, diving in several times to unsuccessfully try to drag one of the mechs out of the fray.

Perceptor's little pedes drummed against the blanket surface, idly kicking as he sat and watched the spectacle as the larger bots only succeeded in irritating the mass of shrieking birds much further.

"Pssst!!"

The sparkling's audios pinged for his attention, catching the odd, unfamiliar sound. He chirped, questioning, head whipping left and right in inquiry.

"PSSSST!"

"Rrrr?" Perceptor chirred, turning and peering over his shoulder.

A strange red and black mech – not much larger than the sparkling, perhaps surpassing him by half a foot or more - bobbed out from behind a large boulder. Grinning and beckoning to the sparkling. "Hey!" He wheedled gamely, flipping his hand back and forth to gesture for the small microscope's attention.

Perceptor cocked his helm, awkwardly swinging around to observe the stranger, but still remaining seated in the safety of his comfortable nest.

The Cassette grinned, and ducked out of sight.

Perceptor trilled, frowning at the mech's disappearance.

When the mech popped out again from behind another boulder, a few steps closer, the sparkling trilled in surprise. Then excitement. Clapping his hands and he burbled at the mech's disappearance and quick reemergence.

Rumble hopped onto the top of the boulder, crouching down, hands and forearms hanging between his bent legs. "Wow. You shrunk, didn't you?" He spoke with no small amount of awe.

Perceptor mimicked the tilt of the Cassette's helm, much to the mech's amusement.

Rumble glanced over at the loud melee down at the lake. Snorting a small gust of laughter. "Wanna blow this joint, little mech?" He asked.

Perceptor chirped. Frowning at the question.

"Good answer!" Rumble bounced down from atop the boulder, landing upright effortlessly upon his pedes. He took several steps in the opposite direction of the lake. Stopping and then peering over his shoulder at the still seated sparkling. "You comin'?"

Perceptor clicks and trills, looking over his shoulder towards the mechs down by the lake. The Autobots not realizing the proximity of a small Decepticon spy within their midst. The little microscope biting his bottom lip in worry.

"Hey." Perceptor jolts, the Cassette suddenly crouched upon the edge of his nest of blankets. "You nervous? Is that it?"

Perceptor whined, fidgeting. "Bee…Blue…"

Rumble sighed, dismayed. "You are nervous. Okay…this won't be easy, then."

The Cassette stretched a hand forward, lacing his fingers with the sparkling's. "Come on. Let's go for a little walk, huh?" He frowned in afterthought. "Not that I know how _far_ a little guy like you can actually walk, but hey, you get the idea."

The microscope let himself be coaxed and tugged onto his pedes. Little pedes dragging as he awkwardly shuffled with every one of Rumble's steps, the Cassette coaxing the tottering sparkling along. Leading the microscope out of sight.

-----

"Frenzy! Frenzy, where are ya!"

Frenzy scowled at his brother's incessant whining calls. "Keep your voice down before the Autoscum audios hear the sound of your shrieking." He groused. "You're lucky you made it back in time. Astrotrain said he'd only drop down once to pick us up within the next few kliks. You know that he wouldn't wait around for both of us."

"RRgh! Frenzy!!"

"Keep quiet!" Frenzy snapped in the direction of shuffling feet.

"Need a little bit of help here!"

Frenzy turned around. Red visor flaring in surprise. "What. Is. That?"

Rumble wheezed with exertion, arms looped around the waist of a…a sparkling?! The red and black Cassette lugging the limp microscope along, the sparkling nearly equal in weight to the Cassette's frame.

Perceptor blinked big, bright blue optics. Both hands clutching the band of arms surrounding his small waist, pedes dangling above the ground as he swung left and right with each lurch from the exhausted Cassette.

"He got tired a ways back." Rumble offered unhelpfully. Plopping onto a large, smooth rock, trying to regain a steady stream of breath in through his vents. "Owww. My arms are so fragging tired from carrying him. I think they're going to fall off." He whined.

"Rumble!" Frenzy snapped. Impatient with the disconnected train of thought from his fellow Cassette, the other mech for some unrecognizable reason not appearing affected by the smaller being grasped snugly within his arms. "What…Is that an Autobot? Why is he so small? **And what are you doing with him in the first place?**!"

"Shhh!" Rumble scowled at his brother. "Keep your voice down or you'll scare him!"

"I'll keep my voice down when you explain what the frag you think that you're doing?!"

Rumble opened his mouth to snap out a retort, but his visor suddenly tilted to look up towards the sky. "Uh oh." The Cassette gulped.

Frenzy halted the beginning of a fierce tirade. "W-what?"

"Astrotrain…" Rumble indicated the Decepticon shuttle circling their position, descending to land and allow the Cassettes aboard.

"Frag!" Frenzy nearly jumped out of his dermal plating. "How are we going to explain _this_?" He pointed an accusing finger at the quietly burbling sparkling.

"Wait. Wait, give me a klik to think-" Rumble pleads.

"Make it fast!"

"Uh. Right!" Rumble whipped his head left and right. "Right…Hide!" He ducked and took cover behind the rock he had been sitting upon.

"That's not going to help us in the long run!"

"Shhh! I'm strategizing!"

"You call hiding strategizing?! Great! What next! Tell Astrotrain to cover his optics and shut off his audios?"

"What are you doing?" Astrotrain landed smoothly, the shuttle's nose turned away from Frenzy. The metal doors slid open to allow the Cassette access to board. "And where is Rumble?! I'm not going to wait around for him!"

Frenzy hopped into the shuttle's large cabin, passing the crated cargo dotting the shuttle's walls, bouncing up and down on his pedes near the front cockpit. "Um…Well.." He mumbled, hands beating a nervous tempo upon the shuttle seats.

"What the-" Astrotrain shivered, rocking left and right and knocking the Cassette's hands away. "Keep your hands to yourself!" He barked snappishly. "Don't screw around near my inner circuitry!"

A hasty tempo of running feet interrupted the triple-changer's waspish tone. "All right, all right! I made it! Chill out already!"

"Finally!" Astrotrain swiftly sealed the cabin door. His engine began to power up, rolling the shuttle forward and into a turn to face the direction of the Decepticon base.

"He's not going to go unnoticed for long!" Frenzy groaned, noticing that Rumble was still lugging his heavy burden. Perceptor trilled softly, inciting Frenzy to wildly hush the sparkling before Astrotrain detected the unusual clicks and trills.

"Geez! Have a bit more faith in me, will ya!" Rumble groused sourly.

In Rumble's arms, Perceptor whined as the roar of the engines filled the shuttle interior. The pressure uncomfortable to the sparkling as the triple-changer took to the air. The microscope scrabbled helplessly at the binding arms around his waist, static hissing from his vocal processor due to heightened stress.

"Eh?" Astrotrain leveled his bulk as he successfully crested the correct altitude, flying steady and straight back to base. "What's that noise?"

"N-nothing!"

"Shh! Shh! Keep it down, little guy!"

Those assurances did nothing to ease their pilot's concern. "If you two are screwing around-"

Perceptor chirred, a loud squeal of distress escaping, left pede kicking out and smacking into the back of the pilot seat of the shuttle.

An undignified shriek of surprise and pain issued from the large shuttle. He arced to the right, wings banking as he tried to correct his flight pattern.

The rough motion tossed the three passengers forward. Frenzy broke Rumble's fall, his bulk trapped between the red and black Cassette and the shuttle's electric console. Perceptor bounced against Rumble's chassis, unhurt, the Cassette's arms slack around the sparkling, the mech whining about his scuffed aft end having skid across the floor of the shuttle.

Perceptor braced his hands upon the Cassette's shoulders, pushing his smaller frame up to peer closer at the bright array and flashes of buttons and levers of the console.

"_No_…" Frenzy pleads. "No!"

The microscope reaches forward and presses his palm down on the closest, large red button. Immediately the array of yellow lights parallel to the button display click off, fading into black.

Suddenly Astrotrain drops like a stone.

"**AAAAHHH!"** Frenzy screams in terror.

**"We're going to fragging die!"** Rumble panics.

-----

"…**What **is he doing?" Starscream scowled, arms folded across his cockpit. Watching the shuttle draw closer to the base's raised tower, drunkenly weaving and bobbing in the air.

"I have no idea." Blitzwing grabbed the microphone. Barking into the mouth piece over the communication tower's frequency, hailing the shuttle. "Astrotrain! What the frag are you doing! You're going to miss the landing platform!"

The shuttle nose-dived, and then dipped hard to the right. Over the frequency, Blitzwing's recognized the panicked voice of the other triple-changer. _"Get him off! GetHimOff!!"_

Blitwing almost knocked the aerial commander off his pedes when he broke from the communications room and into a full sprint, racing to reach the platform to meet the shuttle before he crashed straight into the tower.

"Suggestion: Follow." Soundwave left the room at a far more leisurely pace. Ignoring the sputtering seeker who was acidly promising retribution for the triple-changer's rude behavior.

Soundwave and Starscream arrive a klik or two behind Blitzwing, just stepping out onto the shielded partition of the landing platform with Astrotrain finally coming in to land.

The shuttle's landing was less than graceful, skidding several times before slamming onto his belly. Metal shrieked in fury as the shuttle slid, spinning in a half circle until the broad right side of the shuttle's cabin faced the standing Decepticons.

"Astrotrain!" Blitzwing cried out.

The shuttle's metal body rattled, shaking like a large dog under the terrible mercy of fleas. "GET…" The shuttle door flew open, literally ejecting his passengers from his cargo hold. **"OUT!!" **

The Cassettes yelped as they crashed helm over pedes, rolling to a stop near the telepath's pedes. "Fragger! That hurt!" Frenzy shook his fist at the seething shuttle.

Astrotrain swiftly took to his bipedal form, Blitzwing catching the triple-changer when his knees gave out. Violently trembling, equilibrium circuits and composure rattled. "Keep that…that _thing _away from me or I'll disassemble both your sorry afts!" Astrotrain swore.

Starscream lowered his optics. A double-take necessary as he refocused upon the 'thing' huddled within the shelter of Rumble's arms. "What. Is. That?" He demands.

Soundwave followed the seeker's optics. A twitch of surprise causing the telepath's shoulders to jump when his ruby visor took in the tiny intruder, the Decepticon's gaze met small, curious blue optics.

Rumble shrank beneath the questioning (Soundwave), scornful (Starscream) and furious (Astrotrain and Blitzwing) gazes. His arms tightened around the sparkling.

"Soooo…" He ducked his helm, peering up at the telepath sheepishly. "Can…Can we keep him?"


End file.
